Because She Was Quiet - Flash Fiction

"As much as I like you I just... I just don't think you like me very much. It seems that you mostly just pity me."

"Oh? What makes you say that?" he asked her, concernedly.

"Well... because... I'm so quiet. In all our time together I've said and done very little. What could you like about me, save the fact that I am quiet—which is merely the concealment of one's self. No... I don't expect you like me very much at all," she finished, softly, her eyes fallen away.

"Yes, I like that you are quiet," he told her, smiling amusedly. "But that aspect of your personality says a great deal more about you than you give it credit." He took her hand in his and came closer, bidding her to look up at him. She did. "You say little because there is little you want to say, and you act little because there is little that needs to be done. When you are quiet, you are not merely silent... you are deep in thought or listening intently to those around you whenever they speak... even if everything they say is detailing a matter that is trivial and dull to you, you listen because you care about the person speaking... And whenever I have heard you speak, it was politely, kindly, thoughtfully... and with purpose. You are quiet, dearest. But in your case... being quiet also means you are wise and discerning. Now, are those not qualities that make you more worth the liking?"

She didn't say anything in reply, she merely smiled broadly, a twinkle dancing visibly in her deep blue eyes. Sensing that his answer had set her mind to ease, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it before releasing his hold and exiting the room.